


The Life and Times of Stiles Winchester And Derek Hale

by kendianna



Series: Stiles Winchester [2]
Category: Supernatural, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Childhood, Families of Choice, Ficlet Collection, Fluff and Angst, Growing Up, M/M, Mates, Stiles Winchester, Temporary Character Death, a different take on werewolf packs, underage romance but no underage sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-21
Updated: 2014-06-04
Packaged: 2017-11-14 22:22:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/520125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kendianna/pseuds/kendianna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Cas found baby Stiles during a job, his parents stone cold dead from a monster attack, and decided to settle down and raise him as their own. UNder their eyes he grew up, he made friends, and he found love.</p><p>(Scott and Derek are siblings and Peter is their guardian. Sterek are established mates)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. There and Back Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the death in this chapter is like the most temporary death possible. i promise. like half a day tops. very minimal death.

As his eyes fluttered open and he took in his surroundings, Stiles sucked in a breath of what may have been the sweetest purest balmiest air he'd ever had the privilege to breathe. That in and of itself took him down a different mental path of curiosity about altitude and smog density for a moment before he heard a gentle cough and his attention snapped back to focus. There were two nervous but happy people sitting above him, a good looking couple. The woman had tears wobbling at the corner of her eyes, threatening at any moment to careen down her face, and the man was gripping her hand tightly. 

"Sooo...I'd be correct in assuming I'm not in Beacon Hills any more?" they shared a shifty look with each other before the woman timidly answered him "Well dear I hate to consider whatever circumstances brought you here but, you would be correct. You're not exactly in a place you've ever been before either" The man huffed out a small laugh "What your mother is pussyfooting around trying to say son, is that you're dead. And you're in heaven with us. Surprise"

**-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-**

What could have been either galaxies or merely a small dimensional twist away, Derek Hale sank heavily to his knees, cradling Stiles' lifeless body close to him. Breathing in the lingering scent of him before it was gone, pressing his face into limp hair, clutching at cold bloodied clothing. The pack shifted anxiously around him, unsure of what to do or say. Scott had long since gone into his beta state and was whining loudly at his brother's side. Peter stood directly behind his nephew, thumb hovering over the send button of his phone. He didn't want to have to be the one to make that call, and he hoped that if he just waited long enough Castiel would be here without him having to be the one to say those words out loud. 

It turned out that he really didn't have to wait that long at all. An explosion of light ripped through the darkness of the night and the thickness of the rain in the air, illuminating the ground and the pack for just one horrible moment. If Castiel's face was a study in mourning, Dean's was the opposite. Clearly confused and unaware - so terribly unaware - he whirled around, looking for the source of conflict. His gaze fell on his son and in the hollow of his eyes the world fractured. His screams rang out and his sobs scattered across the muddy field. Like Orpheus grieving in the woods, so too did the wolves and the angels alongside him. 

**-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-**

He didn't remember coming home or even falling asleep, but when he woke he was alone in his bed. Cas had probably carried him. He recalled every detail of the night before vividly, painfully. He made his way downstairs to find his His brother waiting for him in the kitchen. He distantly heard bits and pieces of Cas and Gabe and Peter talking in the living room. He paid them no mind, and collapsed into the huge embrace that came crashing lovingly around him. The tears came again, and he made no efforts to stop them. He felt Sam crying as well, and took a moment to think back over his life. Had he felt this way when Jo and Ellen died, when Bobby died, when his own father died? He had felt this way before when his brother had died, when Castiel had died. And yet this was deeper and more paralyzing than even those 

He didn't need to have super ears or a juiced up nose to instinctively know that the pack was curled around Derek on Stiles' bed. Anger welled up from a small withered part of him that still feared and hated that which lurked in the night. The logical part of his mind battled the cruel and stubborn corner that insisted that the love between mates had no right to be stronger than the love between family, while the sappy romcom wrinkle of his brain insisted that he himself was eternally bonded to a supernatural being and therefore had no right to minimize the alpha's attachment to his son. He had to shake himself; Derek was a part of their family, the pack was a part of their family. He was in mourning, but he didn't need to be a nasty little bitch about it. The man was practically his son-in-law. 

no, scratch that,  _had been_  practically his son-in-law.

He wondered idly if Derek felt more pain now than he had when the fire uprooted and destroyed his world. The burden of those who dealt with insurmountable pain, was that it would most assuredly strike twice, or in his case and Derek's case as well, again and again until it wore them down to ashy piles of almost nothing. Stiles would be calling him a drama queen right about now if he could see into his mind. The thought nearly brought him to laughter, but his body instead chose to produce more tears.

**-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-**

They sat tear-stained at the table, a jittery silence cloaking them. Derek clutched at his uncle's shoulder, pathetically wrecked and barely able to sit up straight. Everyone staunchly avoided his aimless gaze. A niggling aversion to the sheer tragic awkwardness of it all made Castiel almost wish his brother would say something facetiously mischievous to clear the air. He cleared his throat and laid his hand gently on Dean's "Gabriel and I still have access to heaven, and I know he's there because my baby's still got one of the purest souls I've ever seen. However, whether or not we can bring Stiles here from there is uncertain at best. If nothing else, we'll be able to see him and pass on messages. We can go now or we can wait, but the longer he's there the more immersed in the essence of heaven he'll become - the more disinclined he'll be to leave."

The wolves sucked in a sharp breath at that. Derek focused his care-bear stare on Cas in full force, when he spoke his voice was ragged "What happens if you get there and he doesn't want to come back to us?"

"Then I'll try again every day until he does" and in that very moment he disappears. 

**-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-**

There was a slow heavy breeze in the air, hot and almost sticky, and Stiles felt like wilting. It was a warm wet heat and it was comforting. He'd been here for who knows how long on patio overlooking a wide river, eating bignets and sipping sweet tea with his- with  _John_  and  _Elzbieta_. Such lovely people, so very kind and loving and so determined to recount to him every detail of his infant-hood they could remember from before they'd been horrifically slain. As wonderful as it all is, it doesn't feel like it's something he'd really want in  _his_  heaven, if that's where they really are. He knows exactly who and what and where he'd choose to spend eternity if it were up to him, but for the life of him he can't bring himself to ask. It feels nice, not perfect and not  _his_  per se, but nice. 

Quite frankly, though he would never say it out loud, he was downright overjoyed when his dad burst in through the tall white french doors that lead into the side of the house. He nearly knocked over his chair in his haste to get to him. "DAD" "Stiles"

Later he'd tell gossipy angels to stuff it, because apparently it was the go-to loving moment of 2013 that no one would ever forget, and there had been some kind of prophesy about it on a tablet somewhere, something about the adopted child of one who still wore his grace reuniting in heaven and choosing love over the divine, he couldn't really be bothered to remember because _hey his dad was standing right in front of him_. 

Stiles whispered in his ear "Thank god what took you so long" Cas stared down at him in amazement "Son, it's only been a day since you- since you died"

Stiles picked his chair back up and slumped into it heavily "So I really did-" he can't bring himself to say it, and resorts to making a juvenile line across his neck. Castiel rolls his eyes and collapses into the chair next to him, John and Elzbieta having disappeared soon after his arrival. He shifted slightly in his chair, brushing his hand across the top of Stiles' head "So you met them. What did you think, good enough to stay?"

His son looks at him like he's raving "I hope this isn't your way of telling me I need to get out of the nest, because I can guarantee that sticking me with my bio-parents may actually be something I would resent your for for the rest of eternity" Castiel doesn't even bother responding. He raises an eyebrow and Stiles practically  _gibbers_

"I mean don't get me wrong, nice people. Real nice. Apparently this is where she grew up with her parents and where they wanted to move back to eventually. But a couple of friendly faces doesn't mean I want to stay here. Jeeze, I'd rather have you and dad and the pack for the rest of my natural life than ever be able to come back here. D-don't give me that look you know I'm telling the truth. I like it but it's...it's too quiet here. It's too peaceful. There's not enough going on"

Cas hems and haws, unsure whether to tell him- no. He can't let emotions get involved,  _has_  to tell him "Stiles this isn't your heaven. When you died your parents brought you here to their shared heaven. This is what their afterlives are like. Yours can be whatever you want. It could even have memories of us and the pack. But you have to know, Derek and the rest of the wolves, they'll never end up here. They're destined for purgatory, the resting place for all of the children of Eve. You can live within memories here, but on Earth you could live a whole life's worth of memories. After you're both dead, there's a chance you'll never really see each other again. Not here anyways."

They held each others' gazes. The silence between them was long, Stiles huffed out a slightly wheezing cough. "Hypothetically speaking, how long could you and uncle Gabe keep three humans and eight werewolves alive for, absolute maximum"

Castiel thinks he may never have smiled wider in his life

**-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-**

He didn't really want to know where his body had been while he'd vacated it. It felt warm and whole and perfectly not riddled with claw holes or gouges, which was a definite plus cause y'know  _living_ was kinda his goal from now on. The important thing wasn't really that he was back in his body, well it was actually, but that he was back amongst the people he cared most about. He wasn't sure who was hugging him tighter, Derek or his Dad, it seemed like they may have been competing. That was fine with him, he was the hug  _master_. Hugs were kinda his supernatural ability. As he collapsed back into a pile of pack and family, he knew he'd made the right decision.


	2. Stiles is Lucky His Name Isn't Chester

It was recess time and Vyacheslav Winchester was panicking, hidden under one of the metal park benches. He was pretty sure that the first day of kindergarten wasn’t supposed to run like a bout of medieval torture. He’d tried telling the other kids how to pronounce his name, he’d tried to get them to use his nickname Vacha, and he’d even tried to simplify it to Slava like his daddy called him. That awful Jackson Whittemore had taken it upon himself to encourage to other children to call him coleslaw. To his abject horror, it seemed to have stuck.

A gentle knocking was made against the seat of the bench with what sounded like a small hand. He looked up and found himself face to face with one of the boys from his class, the one that had seemed a little slow, but kind. He had gotten a taste of Jackson’s mirth because of the inhaler he carried and frequently used. He had a dopey little grin on his face.

“Hi, I’m Scott. You know that you sit on top of the bench right?”  
“No way, seriously?” the boy looked at him like he was the stupidest thing on two feet, but then laughed, a merry chiming little noise “Dude come on, you’re going to get sick sitting under there. My brother Derek says that only homeless people are allowed to go under benches, and that they leave their homeless disease there so hurry and get out up!” he had started out playfully, but by the end the boy seemed very serious, and though he was highly skeptical, Vyacheslav crawled out and joined him on the bench.

Scott pointed at one of the big boys playing soccer out on the field “That’s my brother Derek, he’s kinda a jerk sometimes, but he’s super smart!” He listened to the boy chatter for a while, and paid close attention to the older boy. His hair was black and, like Scott had attested, he had an air of instinct about him. It may have been because he was focused at his game, but he was quick and calculating, and Slava could see that he played intelligently. Of course moments later he was tripping over his own feet, and they both giggled at that.

Scott turned to him “So what’s your name again? I know it’s hard to say, but I want to be friends so I need something to call you” They shared small but happy smiles “It’s VEEA-CHEH-SLAH-VAH” Scott mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like coleslaw, and looked rather sheepish “No maybe try Vacha” This Scott could handle, but it sounded ridiculous coming from his mouth “Okay it’s just weird when you say it. Try Slava. It’s just SLAH-VAH” again this sounded absurdly silly coming from the young boy’s mouth, and both boys sighed, becoming disheartened

“Well, before I was adopted my last name was Stilinski. How about you just call me Stiles?” Scott said it and beamed at him. For the rest of the day Scott and Stiles had both used his name like they were trying to wear it out. Their teacher was secretly pleased that he’d found something easier to be called, and Jackson still called him coleslaw, but he had a brand new friend and his prospects were looking up.

When school let out that afternoon, he ran to the front where his daddies had said they would meet him. It was only a few minutes later that the shiny black impala, old but still in impeccable condition, pulled up to the sidewalk. Castiel, from the passenger seat, puled him over his lap and sat him down in the middle.

The boy cuddled into his side, and they each wrapped an arm around him. As Dean pulled her out of the parking lot, took a moment to fluff his hair and ask about his first day. Cas pitched in as well, they were eager to hear about his teachers and classmates and any friends he had made. And he smiled, because he had a good story to tell and another good day to look forward to tomorrow.


	3. A Most Ancient And Sacred Writ of Treatise

It had been startlingly obvious that something was different about Vyacheslav’s - _Stiles’_ \- new little friend and his brother. Dean had called in Sam and Bobby, preventatively he hoped. He certainly didn’t want to have to exorcise a pair of schoolchildren, especially ones his son liked. But he was incredibly unsettled nonetheless. Beacon Hills had been so blessedly wonderfully normal. No EMFs, no history of gruesome deaths or killings (which was surprising given the region), no records indicating anything mythological or ancient or native american or magical. It was supposed to be just another little town. So he decided to play things by ear and see if he was right before he jumped to conclusions.

It had all started about a week into kindergarten. Slava - _Stiles_ \- (that was really going to take some getting used to) had yet to shut up about his new friend Scott and his older brother Derek, and Dean and Cas had yet to meet either of them. Scott, from what they had heard, could supposedly see and smell better than anyone else; if the tales were true, his ability to tell what flavor of juice and type of snacks they were going to have before they were brought inside the classroom, was approximately 98% accurate. And Derek, though occasionally clumsy, had shown off some kind of flipping soccer move to the boys that, when described by young Sla- _Stiles_ \- had sounded borderline physically impossible. Cas had assured him that the movement, if it had been accurately described, was not within a human’s potential.

So, suspicious but hesitant, Dean had told _Stiles_ to invite his little friend over after school. The boy had been thoroughly ecstatic. Dean didn’t feel very manly about how nervous he was as he and Cas waited all day. They had both been jumpy, and were glad for the distraction when Sam and Bobby arrived around noon. An hour or so later Sam had gone to pick  _Stiles_ , surprising the boy and making him even more exuberantly happy than he had been. Scott would be over later, driven and dropped off by his guardian. Dean had suggested this as a gesture of parental mind easing, only the worst sort sent their children off with strangers, but it was more truly an attempt to get a go at the adult before they went witch trial on the child (and again, he really really didn’t want to have to do).

And he was glad he had. From the moment the old bently pulled up to the curb, Dean had practically been choking back the urge to put a clip in Peter Hale.  Waves of serious cujo mojo rolled off of the guy. Although Peter was undoubtedly non- human, one look at Scott told him that the young boy was almost certainly harmless, and he sent them off to play whatever it is they were going to play out in the back yard. Bobby glanced between the two, and took off out after the boys after muttering something about adult supervision.

Which left Dean, Cas, Sam, and Peter in the foyer. They stood in awkward silence. Cas began to fidget and then suggested they all head to the kitchen for a cup of something. They followed him wordlessly. Cas forgot himself, and when they reached the table all of the chairs pulled themselves out. Peter raised an eyebrow elegantly, and swooped down into one, crossing his legs. He gestured, rather magnanimously for being a houseguest, that they sit “Let’s cut to the chase here gentlemen” the amused smile vanished from his face “This is obviously a den of hunters, and I am obviously a werewolf patriarch” he growled low in his throat “and I would hope that you wouldn’t be stupid enough to think that you could stoop so low as using children in your war against us”

Dean felt his mouth gape open, and he and the others sat heavily. He swallowed thickly and a glass of water appeared on the table before him, he threw an appreciative glance at Cas and then turned back to Peter “Mr Hale I think we’ve got a serious miscommunication going on here,” he brought one hand up to scratch at the back of his head “Umm we didn’t actually know you were a werewolf, and for now we don’t really care. Castiel and I have been raising Slava since we found him as an infant. He’s our son and we wouldn’t ever use him like that” He nodded towards Sam

“This is my brother, and we’ve been hunting together since we were as young as the boys out there, dragged into this life by our dad after our mom was killed by a demon. Since then we’ve fought heaven and hell, died more times than I can count, averted the apocalypse, and sent an army of leviathans to purgatory. Castiel and I have done everything we can to start a normal life. Surely you can understand how we might be concerned when our son started describing his new friend’s supernatural powers?”

Peter’s eyebrows were again raised “Purgatory you say? And Heaven and Hell? Excuse me if I find it unlikely that backwoods hunters such as yourselves have had the-” A sharp gust of cold wind blasted through the kitchen, rattling the door and windows. Everything was windblown except Cas, who stood and stared into the wolf’s eyes, which widened. A harsh black shadow stood out against the kitchen and the rustling of heavy wingbeats was heard. He raised two fingers to Peter’s forehead, who flinched slightly but then calmed and stared them all in awe. Everything settled, the wind died down, and Dean muttered something about showoff angels. Huffing out an incredulous laugh Peter  placed his hands on his knees and leaned forward in his chair “Care to make a treaty?”

The peace writs read like this:  
 _And so do all partief, Hunter Dean Winchefter, Angel Caftiel, and Wolf (Patriarch) Peter Hale, withe the mutual intentionf of refpect and friendshipliness, do agree to keep about peaceable termf and alliance. To the Hunter Winchefter and Angel Caftiel and their childe, eafement shall be granted into the forest demesne of the Wolf Hale. Equal eafement shall be granted unto the Wolf Hale and his childrene into the House of Winchefter._

It had many many more verses regarding over fifty specific possibilities of different causes and courses of action to be taken in the case of war. The sheer amount of articles and subarticles on the subject of treachery and deception had left Dean’s head spinning. But Peter had insisted upon tradition, and so Cas had insisted on having a second copy written in enochian and signed in blood. He assured them that  it read funnier than Tina Fey’s Bossypants, which garnered odd looks and a fond snort of laughter from Dean. Stiles and Scott continued their raucous play, and never did find out what had occurred in the kitchen that day. It had been suggested by Bobby that perhaps they would follow it’s rules more to the letter if they were of the opinion that it was both ancient and sacred and had been written eons before their time. Needless to say, like most youths interpreting a set of arcane and strict rules, they saw it more as a guidelines.


	4. A Clusterfuck of the Emotionally Inept

There was silence for a moment, the fumbling curiosity and the slide of overeager hands weighed tangibly on the backs and necks of the two zealous participants. Finally one of the sweet intoxicating caresses developed an icarus complex, and moved too close to it’s goal, resulting in the offending hand being grasped and pushed gently away.

At the following whine, Stiles pressed an apologetic kiss to his lover’s lips “Derek, we can’t do this here, we can’t have sex in my house. Or even anywhere near it. Not if we want to keep this under wraps. One of my dads is so battle hardened by death that he’s on a razor’s edge of awareness 24/7. The other is a preternatural angelic being. I’m actually surprised they don’t know already. Cas probably does” He heaved a deep sigh and rested his forehead against Derek’s “I’m sorry. I wish we didn’t have to sneak around”

Derek gave an amused but somewhat self-deprecating snort “It’s not your fault your dad hates me. I had to be the jackass that wolfed out and acted like a total dick when the hunter came to investigate” Stiles chuckled and rubbed their noses together “To be fair, it was his first inspection, and he had no way of knowing not to mention the Kate. I mean I know she was an evil crazy bitch, but before she went rogue they were friends - good friends. I’m pretty sure the Argents are one of his last ties to his dad besides uncle Sam and uncle Bobby” his tone had changed from playful to guilty as he spoke and Derek shushed him “Hey hey now, you don’t need to feel bad about it. It may still hurt but it’s not your fault what happened with your dad. He hates me for a good reason. For all I know he’s right, I love you but…I probably shouldn’t be anywhere near you”

Stiles frowned deeply at this and leaned forward to nip at his ear “Stop it, you know how I feel about hearing you talk like that. Besides, that little thing? May have stung for a while but god knows he’s seen worse. I’ve hurt him worse during trainings and practice jobs and they haven’t gotten rid of me yet. I don’t think he hates you, he needs a lot of time to learn to trust people. He can’t possibly hate someone I love so much” he brought their foreheads together again and they locked eyes “What do you think, big guy?”

Derek made a soft contemplative noise “Well I guess we could try and wean them onto the idea slowly, you help get me on his good side and then we tell them both. It’s not like this is romeo and Juliet here Stiles, we’ve been dating for like more than a year. I feel like you’re right; they’re your parents and they deserve to know” he brought his face down to nuzzle into Stiles’ neck, and pulled his arms tighter around him. For a wonderfully happy span of eight seconds they were perfectly content and warm and blissful. Until the door flew open and Dean stormed in furiously, Cas right behind him looking rather sheepish.

“A year?”  
“DAD!” Stiles and Derek rushed to sit up, thankfully they were still fully clothed.  
“You little bastards have been dating under our noses for A YEAR?”  
“Well really a lot more like eighteen months, dad”  
“And you thought it’d just be cool to not tell us?-”  
“Well to be fair Dean, I knew “  
Dean whirled around “Hold it, you were in on this?”

Cas fidgeted awkwardly “They were happy. If anything had been amiss I would not have overlooked it, you know that Dean”

Dean gave an angry sigh and sat heavily in Stiles’ computer chair, spinning around to face them again. He briefly pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Alright, welcome to the Spanish Inquisition, kids. You’re gonna sit there and feel guilty for lying to me and you’re gonna answer my questions. And don’t even think of telling me anything but the absolute truth, because horsefeathers over here is gonna play polygraph-”  
“Im not a-”  
“Just tell me if they lie okay Cas?”  
“Oh. Yes, I can do that Dean”

“Okay question one, Stiles…Slava”  
“Dad-”  
“Vyacheslav Winchestor”  
“Dad”  
“Slava…why did you hide this from us?” Stiles was about to snap out something about stubborn fathers, but he saw what Dean was trying to stow away beneath the surface. There was hurt on his face, and that was something his son was pretty much an expert at seeing. So he began tentatively, hesitant and gentle.

“Dad, how could I tell you? You hate him”  
“Since exactly when? I don’t have anything against the guy except for finding him in my underage son’s bed” he glared at Derek halfheartedly  
“What are you talking about you don’t hate him?”  
“How could I be any clearer Slava, I don’t hate him. Are you trying to make me out to be prejudice or somethin? You think I would hate him because he’s a werewolf?” Stiles and Derek shared a bewildered glance

“Mr Winchester, we know you’re not prejudiced but…I put you in the hospital. You were in traction for like three weeks. How can you not hate me?  
Dean was silent for a moment, then he spun around in the chair

“CAS” “Yes Dean?” “You been messin with my memories again?” “Only a little. For the greater good, and the happiness of our child” Stiles stood up, head shaking and arms flailing.

“Hang on so you don’t remember at all?” Dean looked at him, and then stared askance at Derek suspiciously

“No, should I? What happened?” Stiles moved to sit on the ground next to him  
“Well, you went on an inspection call to make sure Derek was keeping up his end of your treaty. You mentioned Kate Argent, the hunter who burned down his house with his entire family in it, and said she was a close personal friend. He took it the wrong way, went nuts, and basically turned your chest into a pulled pork sandwich”

“And Cas, you erased this from my memory because?”  
“Their love was only just blossoming Dean, it had to be delicately nurtured. I didn’t think they would hide it for this long, but to be fair they were discussing telling us when we came in”

“Okay, so why didn’t Stiles realize that I had forgotten?”  
“I did it gradually,can you imagine how awkward it would have been if you had woken up with a wound you didn’t remember getting? It wasn’t gone from your mind until a time when it was appropriate to stop talking about” Stiles chuckled and muttered “Yeah dad like you’re not the king of awkward” Dean shook his head wistfully

“Okay so that explains the giant scar on my chest. Moving right along. Derek”  
“yes?”  
“How old are you really. And I don’t want the number on your driver’s license”  
“Umm…ijustturnedthirtysevenlastweek”

A pause. Then Dean stood and stalked over to Derek, grabbing him by his shirtcollar and pulling him to his feet. When his voice came out it was almost a hiss “You’re kidding. And you’re dating my seventeen year old son?”  
“Dad come on he’s emotionally twelve”  
”Can it Vyacheslav”

“Mr Winchester please, Stiles is actually kinda right”  
“What, that you’re ‘emotionally constipated’?” Derek blushed faintly  
“I…I wouldn’t say constipated, but…Werewolves aren’t human. We age and mature so much more slowly because we live longer. Especially born wolves. You’re a hunter Mr Winchester, you know it’s true. In wolf terms I’m barely a teenager”  
“Goddamnit of course I know that, but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re a thirty seven year old man trying to get with my son! You’re more than twice his age and-” he was interrupted by a girlish squeal “BUT DADDY I LOVE HIM”

Everyone turned to glare at Stiles. Derek frowned and mouthed at him “Really Stiles?” Dean sighed again, ignoring Cas who looked blissfully happy, and was probably thinking something along the lines of ‘he hasn’t called dean daddy in years. such a precious child’. Stiles cleared his throat and stood, “what’s being clearly overlooked is the fact that Derek and I love each other. Very much” he reached and took Dean’s hands

“I’m sorry we lied to you dad. You taught me better than that and I regret it. And I’m sorry he’s a lot older than me, but I can’t change that either. And I’m also sorry that Dad erased your memories but I wasn’t in on that one so there’s nothing I can do about that. It’s just…you need to know that what we have is real” he backed away to stand by Derek and they clasped hands. Dean looked at Cas, who raised his eyebrows and nodded silently. He huffed on last time and when he spoke it was growley, but no one called him on it “You have my blessing”

Stiles jumped up and down threw his arms around Derek’s neck and kissed him on the cheek, then ran over and did the same to Cas and then Dean. And to be fair, Dean stayed strong and silent right up until Cas turned to him and asked him if Derek was part of their ohana now. And then he shed several incredibly manly tears.

There was group hugging, and from that point on they were pretty much all happy, even if sometimes Dean and Derek pretended to hate each other and be territorial. And no, thank you, Dean was so not ready to have the “gossip about our supernatural boyfriends” conversation with his son. Though, bless him, that never seemed to stop Stiles from trying.


	5. It's a Kind of Magic -Kanima interlude-

Castiel was in it up to his ears. Wait, elbows? Human idioms still frequently confounded him. Whatever the expression was, the headlice-gritty of it was that he was officially a secretkeeper. Kinda. He’d had experience keeping things before; bees, recalcitrant Winchester men, even his own child, who happened to lie at the epicenter of this secret. It was basically an open secret, and he wasn’t the only one who knew, but he _was_ the one Derek had given it to in confidence. And that felt…indescribably nice. There was an emotion he did not quite have words for yet, but it was very good. Very, very good.

Castiel still wasn’t sure why Derek had confided in him; they were still relatively new acquaintances.  He had come to the house during the day with his Uncle Peter, a week after their initial meeting and the treatise had been crafted. Dean, Sam, and Bobby were all at the autoshop. He was alone in the house. When the door swung open before they rang it, he winced. They shared with him the trait of being utterly supernatural, yet unlike them he would never truly be able to completely mimic humanity. Peter smiled small and tight and with understanding as he gestured them into the sitting room.

Derek shifted nervously on the couch next to his Uncle, and Castiel sat like a marble slab across from them. Curious but still. Motionless and yet somehow so inhuman. Peter rested a hand on his nephew’s leg and glanced at Castiel “Forgive his silence, he’s terribly embarrassed” Castiel cocked his head to the side “I am trying to sense what you could feel shameful of, child, but I’m getting nothing. What can I do for you? Why have you come to see me? Speak freely”

A blush spread across his face and he coughed lightly “It’s about your son, Vyacheslav” Castiel snapped to an angry attention and Derek sniffed the air in horror “Please don’t be upset! It’s…it’s nothing bad. He’s my mate” poor Derek’s eyes bugged out of his face, able to smell the ions and particles moving through the air in a turmoil, where Castiel’s wings would be beating madly if they were visible. Peter chose that moment to intervene “Please calm yourself, Mister Winchester, and allow me to explain for my nephew” his eyes bored into Castiel’s like beams of light

“Werewolves mate for life. We find one fated mate who is our companion and our lover. The one other in this world destined just for us. And when we find them we keep them, and we become their lives and they become our world. Your son Vyacheslav, _Stiles_ , happens to be Derek’s mate. Derek doesn’t need much from the boy. Not yet anyways. He needs to be able to be close to him and spend time with him. That’s all. Nothing untoward, and certainly nothing explicit. Derek’s instincts, because of his mate’s youth, will be geared towards nurturing and caretaking rather than any of our species more…carnal urges. He’s already claimed all of the remaining volunteer slots needed in your boy’s classroom for the rest of the year. Is it amenable to you that he should accompany Scott and Stiles during their playdates and studies?”

Castiel leaned heavily back onto the couch, overwhelmed and fraying at the edges somewhat . He gulped in a huge breath of air and closed his eyes briefly “It is…amenable. I see no problem with Derek becoming a sort of constant companion? Would that be a correct interpretation?” the boy nodded enthusiastically “And of course I will deal with Dean. He is stubborn but not unreasonable. Worry not. When Vacha is sixteen, you may court him romantically, if he will be receptive to it. Until then, consider yourself his nanny. I believe Dean would say Manny. Because you are a man and the occupation of nanny is traditionally a female role…Manny…yes. Well, werewolves and their mates…how fascinating. I will indeed need to research more about your kind” they stood to leave, and he ushered them to the door. Derek thanked him profusely “It’s nothing. Well actually it is something. I suppose you will be my son-in-law one day. Hmm…well feel free to contact me with anything else” And they were gone as quickly and they had arrived.

And though he had many fine opportunities to tell Dean, he found himself avoiding it. He enjoyed having it. A little warm bubble of trust that someone had given him. Just him. Not Dean or Sam or Bobby, just Castiel. Not because of love or obligation, or even because of shared horrific life experience, but because he was trustworthy. He was a confidante. And he wanted to hold onto that little fluttering secret for as long as he could. He never he never expected it to hold onto him. Because as strong as the urge to keep a secret can be, sometimes the tables turn and it starts keeping you.

**-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-**

Approximately eleven years later he found himself in his son’s bedroom, his beloved husband raging at Derek and Stiles, and he thought back on all of the times he could have, might have, possibly should have told him. And you know what? He still wasn’t going to. They were the sweet young couple, and if they didn’t want to admit to an already overbearing parent that they were starcrossed by the hand of god himself and bonded together more powerfully than any ordinary human lovers could even begin to imagine, then so be it.

He’d kept the beans rattling between his fingers for so long, he wasn’t going to spill them yet. As a cooperative parental unit, they had lived through a decade of Derek being the single most-frequently mentioned topic when it came to just about everything. If Dean hadn’t caught on yet than maybe his keen hunter senses deserved the surprise they had coming. So he stood while Dean railed on them about age differences and werewolfishness and _my god they’ve been in a relationship for_ _how long now_ , and if he intervened to fess up to the minor act of having erased a large chunk of Dean’s memories to cast his son’s lover into a better light, well all in a day’s work.

As it would turn out, The privilege of the big reveal was snatched rather hastily from him. He had the inkling suspicion that Dean had maybe known for a while, and in the Hale sitting room across from Chris and Victoria Argent while Derek spun an otherwise magnificent and emotionally moving diatribe about their son, he felt Dean’s fingers clutching his leg and knew that his suspicions were, as they occasionally happened to be when he engaged in social activity, incorrect. Though Dean’s face was soft and happy at the discovery, he braced himself for what could be a loud and draining heart-to-heart later on, followed by predictably intense angry/makeup sex, and he smiled to himself. He caught Dean trying to hide eyes that were undeniably red and watery, and glancing at Stiles, found him to be blushing and teary eyed as well, with his hands over his mouth. The situation may have been a bit of a mess, but his humans, by god were they worth it all.


	6. Hark the Herald Wolfies Sing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY HOLIDAY SEASON MY BELOVED READERS!!!

Derek seethed. He drank his cocoa through his peppermint candy-straw and he seethed furiously. Now don’t mistake the reason for his anger; he wore his thick fuzzy green mistletoe and holly themed sweater, his reindeer ear toque, his red and white striped flannel sleep pants, and his jinglebell-toe elf slippers, with pride. He really did. The outfit wouldn’t have been his first choice if he were being brutally honest, but nothing made Stiles happier than the holidays and in the Winchester house that meant an explosion of festivity and joy and glitter. _So much glitter._

Stiles’ Christmas morning garb was only slightly more garish, his sweater bore a much wilder pattern that consisted of diagonal rows of contrasting Christmas ornaments and his flannels were bright red with little flying sleighs on them. So if he referred to his getup as the battle gear in his head, it was from a place of caring.Seeing him in his Christmas pajamas made Stiles happy, and making his mate happy made Derek happy. So that was that.

This wasn’t even their first Christmas together, it had actually been the norm for them long before their relationship took it’s romantic turn; seeing grouchy Derek in flamboyant holiday clothing had always made little Stiles absolutely overjoyed. So though he may have lovingly grumped about it on occasion, the holidays with his mate really did lift his spirits to wonderful places.

What enraged him though, and what he would most definitely not be putting up with for much longer, was Jackson’s asshole commentary on every single thing Christmas. Though he had made his peace with Scott and Stiles, Derek didn’t think anything would ever fully cure his cynical douchebag streak that ran through him. And right now he wasn’t just blasting the low-level bitchiness that was the constant for him, here at the Winchester home where the family was hosting the entire pack out of the goodness of their hearts, feeding and entertaining and socializing with, he was going far out of his way to insult everything that Stiles loved about the season. Coming downstairs he had known to expect a ruckus about their pajamas, but Jackson had dragged it out for too damn long, practically beating it into the ground to the point where he was the only one laughing.

He could tell he wasn’t the only one grating their teeth to avoid causing a scene on Christmas morning, and he was glad that at least Jackson was alone in making an ass of himself. Furious though he was, he was willing to let it all go; keep himself zen like Stiles would always tell him. He was happy to just ignore the negativity, hold his lover close while they drank cocoa and ate snowman pancakes and opened presents together with the pack and Stiles’ family.

He and everyone else were doing a pretty spectacular job of ignoring the stream of shit that Jackson spewed, until he dropped the bomb that left the room silent. Stiles had dusted the top of his snowman pancake with confectioner’s sugar, and did the same for Derek’s, getting a little on his nose. With an adorable grin on his face, he leaned over and delicately licked it off, pressing a kiss to Derek’s nose afterwards. Jackson’s eyes rolled so hard it was a miracle they remained firmly set in their sockets, and he muttered to himself “god could you be any more queer?”

Derek’s growl almost shook the house, and he was ready to pounce. He wasn’t expecting Castiel to get there first. Cas had on holiday themed pajamas remarkably similar to Stiles’, and the image of him slamming Jackson into the kitchen wall and screaming into his face was definitely a mind-boggling juxtaposition. He held the boy up five inches off the ground by his collar “What did you call my son?”

Jackson was thoroughly shamed and he had immediately dissolved into a stammering mess he always became during interactions with the angel “Look I didn’t mean it like that. I’m not a homophobe - Danny is my best friend. I meant weird. Your kid is weird” Cas slammed him into the wall again and Dean sauntered over and jabbed a finger into his chest “Well that may be true Jackson, but I think that’s _exactly_ how you meant it. You may be tolerant but you’ve been nasty to my son all day and now you’re using his sexuality to try and hurt him” he glanced at his husband “Baby, I think he needs to hear the Jesus story” Cas nodded and let Jackson down, “You’re right dean. I think they should all hear it. Follow me into the living room children, I have a story to tell you” and he directed them all into the other room, sitting in the lone armchair and waiting until everyone was settled down on the floor around him.

He looked at his son and smiled “I know Stiles knows this story, and my husband does as well, but it’s not one I get to tell very often. You see children, it’s easy to forget by looking at me that I am that much different from any other man. Without knowing, one may look upon me and not know that I have walked this planet since the day it was hewn, that I was there watching the rocks that formed it as they floated through space, that I remember the dawn of time when the only things in existence was night and day and God and all the other angels he had created."

"But I was there, and I remember. And one of my favorite things to remember is the life of Christ. There was none of that “son of” business; Christ was god on the earth as a man. Christ was and still is one of the most beautiful things I have ever laid my eyes upon. As a man it was easy to realize he was of the divine simply from his outer appearance, on occasion he glowed faintly, an unmistakable sign to anyone in the know. But when he opened his mouth it was clear to the world. The words he preached were of love, acceptance, tolerance, compassion, kindness. There was none that Christ looked down upon; not even the hideously diseased and deformed, not even the homosexuals, not even the polytheists, not even the criminals, not even those that turned against him and killed him"

"And so when you say that you don’t bear hate in your heart Jackson, you must remember that the words you say offhandedly are the most likely to ring with truth. Even if you accept and love your friend, you would not instinctively show my son that same tolerance, and you show it only because you are subjugated to Derek. It is surely a harsh revelation to hear, but Jesus Christ would be ashamed of you Jackson. He would be disappointed to know not only of your intolerance but of your cruelty. You may still harbor dislike towards my son, but this is not a place where you may flaunt and provoke. This is his home and quite frankly we should have called you on your disrespect much earlier before it fell to this. No one here would dare speak a word about your painful emotional ordeals, Now apologize to my child and tell him why you have picked on him all day. I can see the reason in your heart, but you must say it”

Jackson had grown redder in the face during Cas’ speech, and now he squirmed in his spot, shaking his head almost imperceptibly. The angel leveled him with a heavy glare, but his face softened and he nodded gently. A ragged exhale escaped from his mouth and he swiveled to face Stiles “Look Winchester, I’m sorry I called you queer and I’m sorry I’ve been a dick all day. I’m not here because I’m pack…I’m here because I can’t stand to spend the holidays with my family because I have attachment and self-confidence issues and an inferiority complex because I’m adopted and I get mean on Christmas and I’m sorry I was here to ruin a day you obviously care about a lot.” He glanced back at Cas “Can I just leave now?”

He was surprised when he felt stiles’ warm hand still his arm, and he looked up into slightly miffed but compassionate honey brown eyes “You don’t have to bolt just because you finally got your feelings off your chest you great big bag of dicks” his uncle let out a bark of laughter that went ignored

“I think you seem to be missing a glaring fact here Jackson. You’re literally in a room full of other people who are adopted. Isaac’s family is dead, Peter had to take in Scott and Derek because _their_ family is dead, My dad and Uncle Sammy were adopted by grandpa Bobby because he saw that they needed better than what their unstable father could give them. You don't even wanna know the life they had to go through. Hell,  _I’m_ adopted Jackson, and you don't see me throwing a fit. I don't go around crying about what ifs, because I have people who love me right now. And so do you"

"And you know what, you and I are actually some of the luckiest people in this room. Can you even imagine? Derek and Scott and Isaac all got to have lives with their families. They got to know them and love them and then lose them. And my dad and Uncle Gabriel? They’re literally children of heaven. They basically had to sit through one of the most devastating family feuds to ever exist in the history of the universe. But we’re okay because we talk about our problems and we don’t let each other stew and build up and get broken on the inside. We’re basically a great big family of orphans and we’re here living together and you’re one of us now Jackson so you don’t get to use that excuse. You don’t get to try and play that card. Okay?” he shoved the other boy’s shoulder “Okay?”

When he saw tears gathering at the boy’s eye corners and heard little breaths coming in fast, he launched himself forward to capture Jackson in a hug. A single sob escaped and then he was pushed away. But the boy had a small smile on his face “Thanks Winchester” and though the pack was amazed that Stiles had come out of the encounter unscathed, they noticed the difference in the following weeks when Jackson was markedly less of a giant douche canoe, and actually went the slightest bit out of his way on occasion to be nice to Stiles. It was alarming and strange at first, but the gestures were genuine, and they felt good.

For the rest of the day though, Jackson was very subdued, and he was left by everyone mostly to his own devices, participating but still deep in thought and somewhat far away. They opened presents and drank cocoa and watched an endless stream of Christmas movies, and after the mini-meltdown the day was filled with laughter.

**-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-#-**

After a huge dinner, Peter and Scott and the betas headed back to the Hale Estate. Sam and Gabriel went home to the little house they had bought a few blocks over. Dean and Cas took a walk through the neighborhood to look at decorations.

For a while at least, Stiles and Derek had the house to themselves, and though the temptation was incredibly strong, they were mostly behaving. Mostly. Hands wandered like especially adventurous pilgrims and kisses were pressed heavily and wetly to decidedly non-lip areas. It was dark in Stiles' room except for a string of Christmas lights decorating the headboard of the bed. Derek laid spread out half on top of his mate while they moved together, his thigh rubbing steadily between Stiles' legs.

He groaned and his head fell to his lover's chest letting out a low chuckle "sounds like your dads are home" he rolled over onto his back and pulled Stiles up onto him, wrapping arms tight around him and pressing his nose into his neck "do you really get upset thinking about being adopted?" there was a moment of quiet confusion, and then Stiles barked out a short laugh and rolled so they were face to face

"Of course not sourwolf. I have the best family in the universe and that's been confirmed by two angels who have lived to see it all. It was what Jackson needed to hear. But at the same time, I mean...I didn't _lie_ to him. I'm adopted and it's not a really big deal at all to me, but it's huge to him. My family is perfect and I can't imagine ever finding out anything that would make me not want to be a part of it, but when people are suffering and belligerent and you need them to listen to you, you have to let them know how many other others have gone through the same thing. He may not have the right to act like an ass the way he does, but I do feel for him sometimes"

He leaned forward to boop his nose into Derek's "This is really the last thing I want to be discussing though. Think you could get that big wolfy nose back to my neck? That seriously felt awesome" and Derek complied, but also proceeded to tickle all the way up his side and they fell into laughter, and fell asleep smiling. It was a wonderful Christmas. Next year they'd have to get Cas and Gabriel to find a way to make meeting Jesus work. That kinda had to happen - the dude sounded _rad_.


End file.
